


When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine

by Sininen_Voix



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alcohol, Lovi pls, M/M, Masturbation, so much sin i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sininen_Voix/pseuds/Sininen_Voix
Summary: In which Spain is drunk but not drunk enough to handle things.See the end notes for translations *blows kiss* ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vanmoriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanmoriel/gifts).



Antonio was drunk, and when he was drunk he liked to be close to Lovino and pester him. So he walked to Lovino’s bedroom, trying to keep a straight posture and to look dignified whit an _a Spaniard that can’t hold his liquor is not a Spaniard_ attitude, but failing miserably and looking way less Spaniard than he actually was.

So he went into the room, surprisingly soundlessly for someone that drunk. He could see a bundle of sheets on Lovino’s bed that moved with Lovino’s regurlar breathing.

‘ _Ah, mierda,_ ’ thought Antonio. ‘ _He’s sleeping._ ’

 _Well, of course he’s sleeping, it’s 4am, you drunkard_ , one might think, but, you see, Italians party the same as Spaniards. So Antonio hoped to find Lovino sitting on the ground surrounded by red wine, with flushed cheeks, and mumbling some old love song like he used to.

Antonio gave up because he knew how grumpy Lovino could get if you woke him up for no reason. And even if you woke him up for a very good reason he would wake up angry. He did not want to face the South Italian rage, so he settled for crashing on Lovino’s sofa. At least he was close to him that way. Half a purpose fulfilled wasn’t bad at all.

Antonio relaxed on the sofa and snickered remembering how once a drunker-than-him Lovino started singing _That’s Amore_ and ended up singing _Bésame Mucho_ to Antonio’s face. Not like Lovino could remember any of it, anyway. He should have recorded it.

The memory started to play in loops in his mind, the songs merging together as he slowly fell into some kind of wine-and-happy-memories-induced trance. For a moment, he felt himself float, surrounded by the soft fabric of the sofa. But he opened his eyes slowly, as he heard Lovino groan in his sleep and thrash under the sheets.

He could see the bulge of sheets moving uncomfortably under the moonlight, but its movements came to a stop eventually. When Antonio closed his eyes again and started drifting to unconsciousness, a soft ‘ _Cazzo!_ ’ reached his ears.

Antonio turned his head to look at Lovino and found his ability to breathe was no longer there. Lovino had incorporated himself on the bed, he was awake now. He was _very_ awake. And Antonio was not nearly drunk enough for what he was seeing. A sheet was covering Lovino’s right knee and coming down his leg, and Lovino was stroking himself with his right hand, which made the sheet move rhythmically. Lovino’s left arm snaked under his naked left leg, and he started to finger himself. Sweet moans and cruses escaped his lips as he stroked up and down, up and down, and his fingers went in and out, in and out. Down and in and up and out and down and in.

Antonio couldn’t breathe and he dared not move. He could feel his own heartbeat under his neck, his own hardness pressing against his pants. He felt that if he so much as touched himself once, he would come right there on Lovino’s sofa. Lovino didn’t know he was there, he couldn’t know. He was dead if Lovino found out. He just had to keep quiet and sneak out before Lovino woke up in the morning.

Wet sounds reached his ears. The voice that sang _Bésame Mucho_ drunkenly to him in the past was now moaning louder. The Spaniard thought the whole of Europe would be able to hear those moans. And then, among the raspy and loud moans, a soft, broken _Antonio_ escaped Lovino’s lips.

Definitely, he was not nearly drunk enough for that. He wanted to melt and become one with the sofa. He almost left a grunt escape his lips.

And then, silence, interrupted only by Lovino’s agitated breathing. Antonio covered his face with a cushion.

‘¿Qué coños…? _What the fuck did just happened!?_ ’, he screamed in his mind. Had he known earlier-

A rustling sound and the soft thuds of feet on the floor told him that Lovino had gotten up from the bed and was walking now towards the bathroom, which ment he would see him, laying there with a cushion pressed to his face, and a raging boner under his jeans. Which meant, again, that he was as good as dead.

The thuds stopped beside him. He uncovered his face slowly. His eyes met the amused eyes of a red-as-a-tomato Lovino.

‘ _Ti ha piacuto lo spettacolo, bastardo depravato?_ ’, smirked Lovino as he took the cushion from his grip and kissed Antonio’s lips fiercely, biting Antonio’s lower lip before looking him in the eyes, with a look that reminded Antonio of his imminent death.

Yes, Antonio _was_ as good as dead. But it looked like death wasn’t that bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> "Ah, mierda" = "Oh, shit"  
> "Cazzo!" = "Fuck!"  
> "¿Qué coños...?" = "What the...?"  
> "Ti ha piacuto lo spettacolo, bastardo depravato?" = "Have you enjoyed the show, perverted bastard?"


End file.
